Chapter 6
SIX
The damsel in distress.
The role was well-rehearsed, well-played, and would bring about pleasing results. With the visor down and a suit jacket from his passenger seat, Ishmael obstructed the cameras views of me.
Slowly, he reversed the Aston Martin. It wasn’t the same as the one from that night. They resembled, but weren’t the same vehicle.
The interior was different. So was the motor of the SUV. Red accented the tires by way of the brake pads. Black coated nearly every surface beyond his wheels. Wherever black ended, gun metal gray began.
Speed mounted me against the seat. Every possible path was etched in my memory. I’d taken the route six times before confirming the location was perfect. I wasn’t wrong. We were on the expressway within seconds, leaving the crowd of hungry reporters behind us.
Sunlight greeted me. Ishmael’s anguished eyes condemned me. Worry twinkled in his irises. He altered his line of vision.
Me.
The road.
Me.
The road.
Me.
Each time his eyes landed on me, my heart quieted a little more. My edges softened a little more. My vulnerability peaked a little more. My rigidness dissolved a little more.
“What is it, Mr. Grayson?” I asked.
My words were loaded. So was my heart.
His nostrils didn’t spread. His chest didn’t enlarge. His jawline didn’t stiffen.
“Don’t call me that, Royce.” He paused with a sigh.
His gaze felt intrusive. It violated so many regulations in my book. But, it felt as good. As pleasant. As reassuring, and I wasn’t a woman who needed assurance.
Me.
The road.
“Are you okay?”
Me.
The road.
Me.
“I’m okay, Ishmael.”
The road.
Me.
“You can, uh– just take this exit. I’m not very far from here.”
The road.
Me.
“I didn’t ask you where you were staying, Royce.”
This time, he didn’t take his eyes off the road. His gaze didn’t slice right through my core. His dark rounds didn’t open my soul’s portal.
“Ishmael– I–”
“You are going to sit back and shut up, love.”
He turned the volume up on his steering wheel and increased his speed. I didn’t object. I couldn’t.
I pressed my back deeper into the cushion. My lips met with promises not to part.
I wasn’t sure what sounds were coming from the speakers. My ears were flooded with one sound in particular.
Boom.
Boom.
Boom.
Boom.
My heart beat wildly. My thoughts ran too far too fast. I closed my eyes, desperate to regain control of my nervous system. It was shattered and the cameras weren’t the culprits. It was him. It was the time we had on our hands. And, it was the uncertainty of what was next for either of us.
I wasn’t a woman who went with the flow. I was the flow. I created it and I ended it. Somehow, I was no longer in a position to do either.
“You knew they’d be there.”
I hadn’t heard the volume of the music lowered. But, I heard Ishmael clearly. He commanded my attention. Listening wasn’t a choice I had to make. It was made for me each time he parted his lips to speak.
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Because–” I paused, running a hand through my hair, loosening the curls. I stared out of the window. “I knew you’d come. And, I knew they’d follow you.”
“How’d you know I’d come?”
“You’re not too far removed from your past, Ishmael. You try to remain level-headed, but that fire inside of you is the same fire I fight every day.”
“Every day?” He sniggered.
I nodded.
“Besides, I didn’t disable the tracker on my car to be sure you found me.”
Silence trailed my statement. The small black tracker was hardly noticeable. However, no stone was unturned. I discovered the device the same day it was attached to the barrel of my wheel.
“Have you eaten, Royce?”
“I haven’t.”
His handsome face was angled perfectly. I lost my way in the intricacies of his perfect skin, thick beard, and beautiful Black features.
There were parts of the Black man that were significant to us.
And, there was hardly nothing more I loved witnessing on a man than those features that distinguished us from the others.
“What is it?” He asked, taking his eyes off the road for a brief second.
“Since I’m your woman now, I assume you can feed me.”
“I have every intention of stuffing you, Royce.”
I clenched my pussy muscles. My walls pulled inward, tapping against each other. My stomach knotted. My throat thickened. And all the air in the SUV was sucked right out.
The volume of his stereo heightened again. I melted against the seat. My elbow rested on the door handle. I peered out of the window, praying peace rescued me. Ishmael refused to let me have any in his presence. It was as much of a gift as it was a curse.
No parts of me desired companionship with a politician, but this man was making it abundantly clear he was not the average politician.
Ishmael was a refined street dweller in a black suit with an extensive vocabulary who observed more than he spoke.
And, it was no secret that I was a sucker for a street nerd. I just couldn’t have this one.
My fingertips grazed the olive green tile. There wasn’t a single one misaligned. Neither was there a flaw in sight.
Perfect.
The bar was incredible. Pots mingled in the background, disrupting nothing more than Ishmael’s nerves. I was unbothered by his culinary struggles. Though I loved exploring dishes, Ishmael’s kitchen was no place for me.
Don’t be a wife to a boyfriend.
Don’t be a girlfriend to a man you’re dating.
Don’t ever give a man more than his actions have shown you he’s capable of reciprocating.
My mother’s words stuck like glue. They never left me. I recalled them more often than not.
I wouldn’t be found in a man’s kitchen barefoot with breakfast on the stove.
Not until my finger was sore from acclimating itself with the weighty diamond that was a result of our vows.
I wouldn’t become a homemaker for a man who hadn’t built a home for us.
A life for us. And, established a trust for us.
There were rules.
There were guidelines.
There were stipulations.
And there were requirements.
They didn’t bend, fold, or disappear for anyone. Not even the politician.
I stopped near the window, overlooking a slightly gloomy Berkeley. The city had birthed my greatest gift. My Teddy. The city had also broken his heart.
His spirit.
His head.
And his bond with the men that meant the most to him.
I placed a hand on my chest to relieve the pain I was experiencing.
“You seem to know your way around. You sure it’s your first time here?”
“Is it yours?” I asked, never releasing Berkeley’s skyline from my line of vision.
Ishmael’s grunt was low, sultry, and sex-filled.
Or maybe it was the thudding between my thighs that translated everything that fell from his lips.
“I’ve moved things around a bit and forgot where I put everything.”
“Hmph.”
“Your explanation?”
“I’m not a woman who explains herself much.”
“Royce–” he called out.
Giving into his demand, I turned around. I headed toward the kitchen where he stood near the sink. His home was impressive. Another kitchen was just beneath us. The architect was superior. So was the interior decor.
“I’m starving. Takeout sounds like a better idea.”
“You’re pivoting.”
“I am.”
“Don’t.”
Smiling, I exhaled. “I studied the blueprints.”
“Plural?” Ishmael asked, partly surprised.
“All of them. Every address that belongs to you.”
He sniggered.
His smile rearranged my insides. It was darling. It was dark. And it was sexy.
“That is possibly the furthest from the truth, Royce.”
“Hm.” I didn’t care to elaborate unless he did so himself.
“Not all of them.”
“78123 K Street. 32982 Parnel Drive. 86120 Butcher Road. Those three sound familiar to you?”
“They shouldn’t.”
“I’m aware. You don’t frequent them and they’re not in your name. Neither are they in your mother’s name. Or your brot–”
They were his secrets to keep, but now they were mine, too.
“So, how did you find them?”
“I’m good at what I do.”
“Still curious. How?”
“A lot of wine and a little Wi-fi.”
He tittered. His curved smile straightened swiftly.
“You make it sound easy.”
“Because it is. For me.”
“Shrimp and broccoli? Side of soy noodles?”
“I’d like that.”
“I won’t be long in here. The bar is that big green slab you were just admiring, but I’m certain you knew that before stepping foot in this motherfucker. The glasses are waiting. Take one and pour yourself some wine. Take your pick from what’s in the cooler in the first cabinet.”
“Now that, I didn’t know.”
Sarcasm dripped from my lips. Ishmael’s abdomen jolted from the sharp air pushed from his nose. He didn’t share more words with me. I didn’t need him to.
Because, the wine would never get opened and it would never get poured. My mouth would never greet its greatness. And, my nerves wouldn’t take the hour-long break they needed. I’d be right here. Listening. Waiting. Anticipating every syllable he released.
Absentmindedly, I revisited the bar top. So many parts of me were left behind. Abandoned by my desperation to be freed from Ishmael’s grasp. He had me by the neck, demanding things from me that I didn’t have to give. Not to him.
“This one, Royce.”
He was alarmingly close. His voice. His warmth. His hands. His pounding heart. His chest. His mouth. His eyes. Him.
Our lips were mere inches from each other. Silence settled between us as I struggled to catch my breath. My world was casted into the darkness while I fought every urge in my frame.
I could taste his minty breath on my tongue. I could feel his long, thick arms around me. And, his dick, his veiny and sizable dick, I could feel it inside of me. Digging into me, extracting my creaminess.
My God.
“Maybe I should go hom– back to the place I’m stay– I should.
” I couldn’t form a full thought. I couldn’t conjure a full sentence.
My face flushed with shame, a feeling I wasn’t accustomed to.
I turned on my heels, needing to put Ishmael in my rearview.
Because, he was wrecking everything standing in front of me.